by Ella Maven
She opened on a gasp, and I licked into her mouth, twirling my tongue around hers before sucking on it. Her moans deepened as her hands clenched my hair, and she pressed her body against me from head to toe. I couldn’t stop, my cora racing like a pivers stampede. I wanted to dine on her, make her my meal. Would she ever give me the privilege of tasting the cream between her legs?
She tugged on my hair, pulling my head back. I let her go reluctantly and swiped my tongue over my lips, eager to get every last bit of her flavor. Her eyes were wild, lips red and swollen. “Wholley sheet,” she whispered.
Thank Fatas I wasn’t standing. My head spun, like I’d just drunk some of Xavy’s spirits. I could barely think of anything but her. How did males get anything done with willing females around? All I wanted to do was lose myself in her and watch that pretty red flush darken her pale flesh. I craved more of her moans. How would she sound when I licked between her legs? Would she scream?
Later, I’d realize that she was the reason I’d let my guard down, the distraction that clouded the instincts that had kept me alive for so many sun-cycles. The hum of the charged solar gun was my only warning. I grabbed Fra-kee and burst through the back of our makeshift shelter just before the entire structure exploded into splinters.
Fra-kee screamed, but I didn’t have time to check if she was injured. I bundled her against my chest to protect her as best as I could and sprinted into the safety of the densest brush. Laser bullets pinged into the ground, sending showers of dirt and debris as we ran. The smell of Kulks was all around us, but I’d known it was them right away. Other than the confiscated weapons owned by us Drixonians, the Kulks were the only ones in this region with solar guns—supplied by the Uldani, of course.
I could survive a lot, but a solar gun hit to a vital organ would kill me. I couldn’t imagine what it would do to my female’s delicate flesh. Based on the number of bullets, I had to guess there were about a dozen Kulks. The good news was those weapons would be effective for only a brief time before they needed recharging, and the Kulks were known for wasting their shots. I just had to wait them out. In short-range combat, I was five times as skilled as any Kulk.
A bullet pinged off a tree trunk inches from my head, sending shards of bark over us, and Fra-kee screamed again. Her body trembled in my arms, and I gritted my teeth. These flecking Kulks would pay for scaring her, especially with the taste of her still lingering on my tongue.
As I ran, my cora slamming a warning drumbeat against my rib cage, I formed a plan. The Kulks were trackers. I was on foot, so they’d easily follow my trail. The only option was to fight, and to fight I had to find a safe place for Fra-kee. Her little fingers clung to me, skin white around her knuckles, her pretty face completely devoid of that lovely red flush I’d enjoyed only moments ago.
Up ahead on the outskirts of a small clearing, I spotted a dense collection of numa, the strong, thick vines forming a dome of protection above the ground. The Kulks couldn’t charge through thick numa with their bulk—fleck, I couldn’t either—but Fra-kee could crawl her way into their shelter, giving me enough time to fight before they could lay their filthy hands on her. One thing I was sure of—they wanted her alive.
I slid to halt in front of the numa and shoved Fra-kee through a small space between the intertwined vines. It was a tight fit, but she seemed to understand what I was doing, because she immediately scrambled into the vines’ shelter, curling into a ball, and hugging her knees to her chest.
Free from cradling her soft body, I rose to my full height and unleashed my machets. They rippled up my forearms, over the top of my head, and then down my back. I thumped my tail on the ground just as several Kulks crashed into the clearing. Their useless, uncharged guns hung from their belts. I had to hurry and kill as many as I could before they charged again. I crossed my wrists in front of my neck, lowering my chin and assessing them from between my fists in the battle stance of the Drixonian warriors. The Kulks hesitated a fraction at my position and converged on me at once.
I didn’t draw it out or show off. I went right for the weak points in their armor—their necks and joints. I was faster and stronger. With my forearm machets, I took off a head while slashing the throat of another. One circled around my back and, with a sweep of my tail, I took him off his feet and slammed my tail spikes through the eye slits in his helmet.
I dispatched six Kulks quickly, their oily blood arcing through the clearing as more Kulks arrived to find the bodies of their fellow soldiers. I didn’t give them a chance to advance on me. I charged them. This was taking longer than I wanted, and any time now, their guns would charge, and I’d be in trouble. My gun was still back on my bike.
I wished I had my males with me. While we were physically superior to Kulks, even a Drixonian as experienced in battle as I was would have difficulty defeating twelve Kulks at once.
Fra-kee cried out as one of the Kulks stuck a blade in my thigh, and I roared before twisting my head and plunging a horn into his neck. He died gasping around a mouthful of blood. Before I could take a breath, another blade plunged into my side while a heavy fist slammed into the side of my head. I blinked through blurry vision, trying to assess how many Kulks I had left. I shook my head. No time to count. Just fight.
I lashed out with my machets and luckily connected with a Kulk—his screech of pain telling me I’d made a direct hit. I was tiring, but I couldn’t lose, not with my female to protect. Fueled by pain and the sound of my female’s fearful cries, I fought faster. Bodies fell at my feet. Whistling filled the air, and Fra-kee screamed my name. I arched my back and a turpin sailed inches from my nose.
Flecking Kulks. Turpins were the weapons of choice for the Rahgul—spiked balls charged with energy on the end of a chain. If the blow didn’t kill you, the shock to your system would.
Fra-kee was screaming a litany of words in her language, and I wished I could understand her because something told me she was trying to give me direction. This Kulk was the biggest of the squad, and he swung the turpin like an extension of his arm.
He flung it toward me, and I felt a few spikes slice into my side before I managed to skitter out of the way. He sneered. “Always knew you were only as strong as your pack. Get you like a lone welf, and you’re easily picked off.”
I flung my arm out to the side, gesturing to the bodies littering the ground. “Does this look easily picked off to you?”
He raised the turpin high, and I watched his arms, knowing the weapon was coming at my head any moment now. “Give up the female and I’ll end you quick.”
“Not a chance.” I ducked just as the turpin flew. I kicked my foot out and swept his legs out from under him. He fell on his back with a thud. In midair, I grasped the turpin chain, and slammed it down to crush his skull. Blood splattered, his chest trembled, and he rattled a few more breaths before falling silent.
I stumbled back, wiping his blood from my face, and fell to my knees. Blood spilled from my thigh to coat the trampled grass, and the cut in my side leaked. I fought for breath as my head swam from the blows to my temple.
Around me lay twelve dead Kulks. A whole squad. I pitched forward, bracing against the ground with my fists. I had only one more syringe of medis left in the bags on my bike. I had to make it back there and retrieve it, or I’d be no good to protect Fra-kee from further threats.
A shadow fell over me, and I braced until I inhaled the sweet scent of my female. She collapsed in front of me, wetness dripping from her eyes. She cupped my face, peering into my eyes as her small, soft hands caressed me, running over my shoulders and across my chest. Despite my pain and weariness, my body reacted to her touch. I’d done this for her, and I’d do it all over again. Didn’t she know that?
I leaned into her, my lips seeking hers, and she tilted her chin, offering her sweet mouth. I dove inside with my tongue, licking at her and sucking on her tongue. I clasped her to me, and would have kept going, but she brushed a wound on my side with her delicate fingers, and
I hissed at the contact.
She jerked away from me, eyes widening and then narrowing. Her mouth tightened and, with a finger pointed at me, she said, “Nuh keesin huntel we heel wu.” I was sure she was scolding me, but I wasn’t sure why. She stood and tugged upward on my arm. “Cum hun beeg gai. Lehts get sum uv that medisin.”
I stumbled to my feet, dizzy, my body losing blood fast. She slung one of my arms around her shoulders, and then the little female began to march back in the direction of my bike. Her jaw was tight and determined, and despite my bulk, she managed to keep us upright.
I wasn’t sure how we made it the whole way, as I could barely walk on my own strength, but Fra-kee didn’t give up, even as sweat matted the hair around her temples, and her chest heaved with exertion. When we reached the clearing where my bike sat unharmed near a tree, I could have passed out from relief.
I gripped her little face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So strong. So brave.” She smiled up at me, but I could tell she was exhausted.
I reached for the bags on my bike. I noticed that she watched me, always observing, her intelligent gaze taking in everything and filing it away. I could barely wait to be able to talk to her. After releasing the bag’s clasp with my fingerprint imprints, I pulled out the medis. Hands shaking, I slammed the syringe into my gut. Instantly, the medis worked its way through my body. It caused my blood to duplicate at a rapid rate, and the tissues of my injuries to repair themselves. My wounds closed and my pain subsided. I gulped down some qua and shoved a tein in my mouth.
For Fra-kee, I gave her a monstra, a drink we used when we were fatigued because it had properties that energized us and kept us awake. She eyed the thick, fizzy liquid, and took a sip tentatively. Her brows went up into her hairline and a grin split her face. “Yumm!” she said. “Taests luk coack.”
I turned to dig through my bags for another treat to give her. The hum of the solar gun reached my ears too late, and pain seared my biceps. Fra-kee screamed. I dropped to a crouch and spun to see two Kulks. One had Fra-kee on her knees, holding her by her hair. The other? One of his arms was missing. And, in his remaining hand, was a solar gun pointed right between my eyes.
Six
Frankie
The Armored Bear gripped my hair so tightly, I was sure I’d have a bald patch. Not that it really mattered, because if Daz and I didn’t find a way to get out of this situation, a little hair loss would be the least of my problems.
Seeing good ol’ one-armed Bear was a bad sign. Super bad. He’d already struck me once and had his arm taken off for it. If he got me alone, I didn’t want to know what he’d do. It wouldn’t be good; of that I was sure.
Daz hadn’t moved from his crouch. In fact, I wasn’t sure he was breathing. His arm bled, but not too much. From what I could tell, the bullet had only grazed him, thank God. He was still, like a blue, marbled statue. Every muscle in his body was tense, and his scales rippled with color. He pulled his lips back, baring those ferocious fangs that had nipped at my lips so gently.
I had to pull my weight here. Well, I’d pulled his and mine back to this bike, but he’d still done all the heavy lifting—er, killing. I should have been terrified of him. He’d smashed that Bear’s head like a watermelon. But he’d done it to protect me, hadn’t he? So, despite the pain in my scalp, I had to think of something. And quick. This was a time to step up for once in my life and change the direction of my own path instead of waiting for someone or something else to do it.
Huddled under that weird dome of vines, I’d paid attention to Daz while he fought. Not only because it’d been utterly amazing, like Beatrice Kiddo taking on an entire house of assassins in Kill Bill, but because I wanted to know what weaknesses the Bears had. I’d discovered that their armor was their only defense—without it, they had about as much protection as slugs. Their skin was thin and easily ripped. So, going after the joints in their armor—as though they were medieval knights—would be the best plan of attack.
I scanned the ground for something, anything, that I could use as a weapon. My eyes landed on a branch nearby. When Daz had made our shelter last night, he’d sharpened the ends of some branches to sink into the ground. That shelter had exploded into bits and pieces scattered all over the clearing. One such branch lay about a foot from my thigh, its sharp point clearly visible. I couldn’t kill the Bear with it, but maybe I could provide enough of a distraction to give Daz an edge.
The one-armed Kulk and Daz were talking. I didn’t know what they were saying, and it didn’t really matter. Daz was still alive, and so was I, so that was enough to give me hope.
The Bear held my hair too tightly for me to reach the sharpened branch. Trying to shift my position, I began to struggle, even though the Bear’s grip hurt like hell. The Bear growled, and Daz tensed, his swirling eyes becoming pitch-black holes. His nostrils flared, and all the blades in his skin lifted. He was a flesh-and-bones barbed wire of fury, and if he weren’t on my side, I would have peed myself with fear.
A fist slammed into my back, and I pitched forward, catching a face full of dirt. This was my chance. I scrambled, whooping in victory when my fingers closed around the branch. I rolled to my back and slammed the sharp point into the space where the Bear’s calf armor connected with his boots. I wasn’t sure if these things had Achilles tendons, but that was what I was going for.
Blood spurted around the stick, and the Bear howled, immediately collapsing in a heap of whimpers and growls. I scrambled away from him in an awkward crabwalk, just as the other Bear spun toward me. He lifted his gun, and then a streak of light zapped through the air. In the next second, the same gun landed in the dirt, the hand that had been holding it thudding beside it.
I shrieked and whirled to see Daz approaching us, eyes ablaze, his gun in his hand. He lifted it again and shot the head off the Bear who’d held me. I continued to shuffle backwards as the remaining Bear, his single arm now a stump, began to roar and scream.
Daz didn’t flinch. He dropped his gun, lifted his forearm, and sliced the Bear’s head clean off his body. I must have been desensitized already, because instead of disgust or fear, relief coursed through my body. The damn Bear who’d been hunting us was dead. He might have come back from an arm amputation, but he wasn’t living through his head being separated from his body.
Daz yanked me to my feet and hauled me away from the bodies, taking us farther into the woods. When we were a safe distance away, he dropped me to the ground, his eyes coasting over my body, checking me, as he’d done before, for injuries. He was murmuring to me fiercely, profusely, and maybe I was reading him all wrong, but I swore he was… proud of me.
I felt a bit like I was watching my body from somewhere overhead. Was this really me? Frankie Russo, who caved to peer pressure after prom and threw up cheap vodka for two days afterward? Frankie Russo, who kept waitressing at a dead-end job because the position had fallen in my lap and it was too much effort to find a new one? That Frankie Russo had just stabbed a freaking alien in the ankle?
I clutched Daz’s broad shoulders and winced at a sudden jolt of pain in my wrists. I’d probably hurt them when that jerk had shoved me to the ground. Except they didn’t feel achy or bruised—they felt burned. I tore my gaze from Daz and looked down at my arms. My wrists were in pain, all right, like a wicked sunburn. And, on the surface of my skin, something was… happening. As if drawn by an invisible pen, black lines ran parallel to each other around my wrists, forming two thin stripes, like bracelets. The burning intensified, and I cried out, cradling my wrists to my chest.
Daz growled, falling to his knees, and easing me onto the dirt. He pulled back and immediately raised his own wrists.
“What the fuck?” I muttered as I caught sight of similar lines forming on his wrists.
He rotated his hands back and forth, staring at them in wonder, his lips parted. He gripped my hand and tugged it, placing it next to his, just as more lines began to appear between the two stripes, creating a pattern a
lmost like filigree. The pain subsided, and the lines lightened until they sparkled like golden tattoos in the sunlight. But what really had my mind in a tailspin was that my new tattoos were an exact match to those on the blue scaled alien sitting in front of me.
Warmth spread through my chest, and it itched, like a healing wound. I scratched at the skin there, but the itch was inside, more of a feeling than anything tangible. I swayed on my knees, suddenly dizzy. My skull seemed to swell, and emotions slammed into me. They were strangely unfamiliar—like I was feeling them, but they weren’t my own, they were somehow separate from me. I lifted my head to meet Daz’s wide-eyed gaze. I instinctively knew the emotions were… his.
I could sense it all—wonder, fear, and most of all, coursing red-hot like a brush fire, was lust. The force of it nearly knocked me flat on my back.
He swallowed slowly, tugging my body against his. I gripped his arms, and he clasped my face, whispering in an awed tone, “Hubra Fatas.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded like a prayer. Or a curse. He swiped at my cheek, and when his thumb came away, it was streaked with dirt. I was filthy. I hadn’t bathed since the night I fell asleep in my own bed on Earth. And within the last two days, I’d been dragged through the dirt and splattered with blood and muck…
An overwhelming surge of determination flooded my system—I recognized that it was coming from Daz. It was so strong it nearly overpowered the lust. He gathered me in his arms and carried me to his bike. He held me firmly against his body as he fired up the engine. We rose in the air, and as he gripped the handlebars, I stared at his wrist markings, so similar to my own. What the hell were they? Why did we have them? I ran my fingers over the golden lines. They weren’t raised and they had no texture. They felt just like my skin, like a healed tattoo.
